


Confess

by Nellblazer



Category: Fleabag (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Church Sex, Confessional, Confessional Sex, Dom Jim Moriarty, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fleabag - Freeform, Jim Moriarty is a Little Shit, Priest Kink, Public Masturbation, Verbal Humiliation, hot priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: After your life spirals out of control, you go to church for the first time in your life where you meet the most unorthodox priest you've ever encountered.Sherlock/Fleabag Crossover*Please do not replicate my work anywhere without my express permission*
Relationships: Hot Priest/Reader, James Moriarty/You, Jim Moriarty/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 170





	Confess

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Smut, Public Sex, Manipulation, Abuse of Authority, Priest Kink
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- NB xx

This was the last place you ever expected to end up but you felt like you were out of options.

You went into the cathedral, dredging that long instilled faith from the recesses of your mind where you'd squashed it down. Religion had no place in your life but maybe it should, especially when it had gone off the rails so much.

It was hard to connect to anyone any more, hard to form meaningful relationships when sex had become dull and you were chasing a more and more hardcore experience just to feel something. It was becoming dangerous. When you were picking up strangers and chancing your odds that they weren't going to murder you, it was time to take a look at yourself.

The inner sanctum was intimidating in its sheer height, stained glass murky against the dark outside but the judgemental eyes of the occupants were no less piercing. You could hear every footfall on the heavy carpet and it wasn't dampened one bit in this empty space.

Was this a good idea?

There didn't seem to be anyone around so perhaps you could come back another time...but then again, if you were going to discuss what was going wrong in your life, you didn't want nosy curtain twitchers to be eavesdropping.

There's a noise from the confessional and you think perhaps the priest is in there. A faceless confession.....sounded just about perfect right now.

When you opened the other door, the noises abruptly stopped. You sat on the velvet cushion and closed the door, looking to the latticed partition where you could just make out a silhouette.

“Hello?” you start but the priest doesn't say anything or even move.

Is this how confessions went? Did you just....start?

“Hello, Father?” you try again.

There's an impatient cough before you hear a drawling Irish lilt, “Go on....my child.”

You catch movement as they adjust themselves and if you were a paranoid person you would say they seem bored.

“Uh...right....forgive me Father for I have sinned....I've....I've never confessed before-”

“-Uh huh, uh huh,” they're hurrying you along. “Tell me why you're here. I don't need the spiel. I've heard it before.”

“Oh...ummm,” was this rudeness normal? “I've been very...uh...impure? Yeah, impure.”

“Having dirty thoughts?”

“More than that.”

“Had sex outside of marriage?” a gasp that's bordering on comical.

“Lots of it.”

“Tell me moreeeeeee.”

“Well recently I've been picking up guys from dating apps and going to their places to...have sex.”

“I need details,” he says before he coughs. “I mean, God needs details. Say it in the rawest fashion you can.”

“And you won't get offended?”

“This is confessional, sweetheart. Heard some pretty dark things.”

“Okayyyyy. My sexual urges are getting so much that I'm needing increasingly dangerous sex to get off any more so I find dangerous situations to get myself into or meet strangers.”

“And what do you do with these strangers?”

“Everything. I fuck them....sorry for the language.”

“Continue,” you see the shadow lean back.

“I fuck them and they tie me up, they hurt me, they humiliate me and degrade me and it feels like I'm losing myself and losing control of my life. I don't even know why I came here, I just...I need some direction.”

“Do you enjoy the sex?”

“Sometimes, sometimes it's.....oh god this sounds horrible....sometimes it's not enough.”

“A very wayward girl indeed,” comes the half purred reply. “You've strayed far and you still want to, don't you?”

Even now you were listening with rapturous attention to the priest's voice which was so confident and had an edge of seductive charm to it. It was probably a middle to elderly aged man on the other side but the voice.....

“Yes,” comes the tiny reply.

“That's very.... _wicked_ , you know,” he continues. “My time is very constrained this evening but come back tomorrow and we'll talk further. Same time.”

“Sure...do I have to do ten Hail Mary's or something?”

“No, your punishment will come when you return...should you wish to of course.”

“Thank you, Father.”

You exit the confessional, resisting the urge to fling the other door open. Maybe you shouldn't have come here after all. All you could think about was the way he had said 'wicked'.

**

You sat there in your flat wondering if you should go back.

You'd gotten yourself off last night to fantasies of that voice telling you what to do, telling you how much they wanted to fuck you.

You should not be having dirty dreams about a priest, for fuck's sake.

Eventually you did decide to go back because he was freeing up his time to help you after all and it would be rude to just not turn up.

When you got back in the confessional, it was taking everything you had not to run away. You felt like you were tempting yourself with more fantasies later.

“It's you, isn't it?” he softly chuckles. “I was wondering if you would come back. Brave girl.”

“What is it you want me to do, Father?”

“I want you to tell me the last time you fornicated in _explicit_ detail. I need to know just how bad your addiction is before I can offer advice.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

You take a deep steadying breath, “The last man I picked up, we went to his place. I'd already said I wanted it rough so as soon as we got in the door, he pinned me against the wall by my throat and put his hand up my skirt. He ripped my underwear off and....and he used his fingers before-”

“ _Details_ ,” the priest cut in. “You can't cheat the Allmighty with the Cliff Notes version.”

“Sorry,” you bluster, feeling shame creeping across your face and being thankful he couldn't see you. “He used his fingers in me, used them on my...my clit to get me worked up and ready for him. Then he got to his knees and started licking me-”

“-Where? Your elbow? Because that's not very sinworthy.”

“My.....oh god, I'm so sorry for saying it like this...my pussy.”

“Go on,” he encourages and for a fleeting moment, the shadow of movement from beside you catches your eye.

You must be more aroused than you thought because you thought it looked like the priest was stroking his cock. Were you getting a priest fetish now?!

“He licked my pussy until I nearly came then backed off. He led me to the bedroom and tied me down, hands and feet before getting me to the edge a few more times.”

“Were you begging?” he cuts in. “Was your depravity that complete? Did you stray that far from God?”

“Yes, yes I begged. I begged and he didn't give me anything. He started fucking me whilst choking me and I didn't even care if I didn't make it out. I just wanted the...I guess euphoria?”

“Did he hurt you?”

“He bit me, he slapped me, he fucked me until I was screaming.”

“ _Well_ ,” the priest's voice has gotten deeper, you swear.

How damaged are you that you _want_ the priest to be getting off to this? That's a little sick, right?

“I know, it's terrible,” you cough awkwardly.

“And did you...finish?”

“Yes.”

“And did he?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“All over me.”

“Oh there's going to have to be a rather _big_ punishment for you, my child.”

“What should I do?”

“I want you to leave my church and abstain for a full week before coming back here. I want you to be celibate. I'll know if you're not. Come back here in a week and I'll see if those depraved thoughts are becoming less frequent. Understand me?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Again.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl. Off you go.”

You're clenching your thighs together hard. You can almost feel your pulse through the throbbing in your groin and you know a week is going to be incredibly tough to manage.

But you want to do it. You want to show the priest you can do it.

As you leave the cathedral, you thought you heard something like a moan but that couldn't be right. You glance back at the confessional and see his side open a sliver but it shuts just as quickly as you spot it.

**

A whole week without fucking anyone you could do but a whole week without touching yourself turned out to be an incredibly tall order.

More than once you caught your fingers starting to delve and had to pull yourself back from the brink of giving in. The priest invaded your thoughts a lot when that tended to happen.

You never knew they were so thorough in the confessionals but hearing that authoritative disapproval just did things to you that you didn't understand. You were starting to crave it.

After many cold showers and a lot of frustration exercise, you finally went back to the cathedral at the normal time.

Again the inviting space was intimidating as you slipped back into the confessional booth. You wait a time for him to speak but he says nothing.

“Father?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

Again there was nothing.

You try to peek through the lattice and half jump as the door opens and you just get the outline of the man and a tiny segment of his face lit up but you can finally see that he's young.

“Have we been good?” is his greeting to you.

“Yes...I've not done anything.”

“I know you haven't,” you can hear something of a smirk in the voice. “God knows you haven't. Well done. Now, let's see if your mind is any less sinful. Tell me your thoughts, are they pure?”

“No,” you admit. “I think I'm a bit of a lost cause at this point.”

“What do you tend to think about when you're having these...fantasies?”

“Uh....”

“Be truthful now,” the tone is warning. “No matter how embarrassing you think it is.”

“I've been...I've been thinking about...well, _you_ really.”

You want the ground to swallow you up.

“Me?” he's surprised. “You've been having lustful thoughts about _me_?”

“I'm so sorry, I know that's awful.”

“What do you imagine?”

“I can't say it,” you're almost whispering.

“You can and you will. This is confessional,” his voice is tinged with dominance.

“I think about you telling me what to do, talking....talking dirty to me, the way you call me a good girl.....I'll leave and never come back, I'm sorry. I don't think you can help me.”

“You need to be told what to do? Listen to my voice then. Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“This is a house of God and actions here are blessed. There is nothing in scripture about masturbation being sinful, so I want you to masturbate for me.”

“What?!” you blurt out.

“You heard me. In the presence of God, play with yourself and dissociate your negativity with it. I'll guide you through and you'll cry out God's name at the end and you'll be that much closer to him.”

“In a church?!”

“It's just you and me here.”

This had to go against everything that you knew about the Catholic church. Surely this was not usual practice.

“Let go of your past sins and be reborn into the pleasure of the Light,” he urges you.

“Father, I-”

“You want to feel better, don't you? If you're too reticent, you can leave at any time. What are you going to do?”

You were so torn. This shouldn't be right but all you wanted to do was to give into his suggestion, to listen to that voice that had tormented you for days.

“It'll help me, right?” you venture shyly.

“You're such a _debauched_ young lady that I need to take special care with you,” his voice is lower, a little huskier. “I want to help you, I want to _save_ you. Now listen to my words. You're going to lift up that tiny little skirt, that's _very_ inappropriate for church by the way, you're going to pull your underwear to your ankles and tell me when it's done.”

It's humiliating how eager you are to obey his commands as you sit in the confessional booth, exposed to anyone who might open the door.

“Done,” you didn't even recognise your voice any more.

“Trail your fingers across and down your pussy and tell me how wet you are.”

Soaked. Absolutely soaked. You were desperate.

“Very.”

“You see that's your body ready to accept a man who has a purpose for you. That's why you're fantasising about me, isn't it? I have a purpose for you.”

“Yes.”

“Now ease your fingers in, gently now. Let the moan come forth like your prayer to God.”

It bursts out of you the second your fingers slip into your slick pussy. You glance at the lattice but he's not looking through it. You half wish he was.

“Use that wetness to coat yourself, rub yourself.”

And you do as he says, little gasps and groans escaping from you. He's silent as you continue but knowing he was there was slightly comforting. The more you were playing with yourself, the more at ease you became.

“That's it, what a _good little girl_ you are,” he coos. “Use both hands on yourself, I want to hear how ready you are to receive divinity.”

He couldn't fail to hear the slick noises every time you pumped your fingers in and out, the way your moans were starting to rise in pitch. You were so close.

“Come on now, let go of your torrid indiscretions and feel the ascension,” his voice is a growl.

You cum hard and loud, juices pouring out of you to sink into the velvet cushion as you twitch with the shocks.

“And how do you feel now?” he asks.

“Better,” you admit. “Much better.”

That was one of the best orgasms you'd even given yourself and you felt energised rather than drained. Even if this _was_ an abuse of practice getting you to do this....it had worked.

“You may think my methods are unorthodox but I know what people need, even if they don't realise it themselves.”

“And you do this often?” you pant, pulling your underwear back up.

“No, I told you, you're a special case,” there's a soft laugh. “Now get out of my church and come back to tell me how you're doing in a week.”

**

The next week dragged.

You wanted to tell the priest how good you felt, how much liveliness you had now, that you were doing less and less reckless things.

You worked without distraction on your projects, unhindered by the need to check any dating apps and occasionally checking the TV where the news was talking about the criminal mastermind, James Moriarty.

You went back to the cathedral later that night. He was waiting for you in the other booth.

“How very punctual of you,” he says playfully.

“I just wanted to thank you, Father. What happened last week, it's working. I can concentrate on things again and I feel more alive.”

“I said I knew what you needed. Any more lustful thoughts....about me?”

“Some,” you admit. “Is that bad?”

“Healthy,” he corrects. “It's _healthy_ to have these thoughts. I know, my little wayward child, that you desire someone to take charge of you so you won't stop having these fantasies until you find that person. All I can do is provide temporary relief.”

“Uh huh,” you didn't know what else to say to that. You had a lot to think about.

Then the cadence of his voice completely changed, “You have _no idea_ how much you tempt me though.”

“I...I do?”

You hadn't even stopped to think about how this was affecting the priest, how your bawdy descriptions and insatiable appetite were impacting on him.

“Oh I'm not blind, sweetheart,” he chuckles softly. “You're _very_ attractive. I've seen you coming in here. Hearing what you've gotten up to and what you needed to do.....”

“Should I go?” you feel guilty.

“No, no you shouldn't. What you _should_ do is accept your punishment,” he half growls and you feel your core twitch. “Tempting a priest....tut tut. Now get on your knees and pray. _Kneel_ ”

You obey quickly, feeling ashamed. You're kneeling on the cushion at the front of the booth when you hear movement and the door suddenly opens, momentarily dazzling you.

When your eyes adjust again, you're horrified to see a face that has been staring at you out of your TV for the past few days.

It's James Moriarty.....dressed like a priest.

“You!” you gasp.

“Oh yes.... _me_ ,” he grins. “Imagine my surprise, hiding out here when in walks _you_ and what a story you have to tell me.....ohhhhhhh you didn't even notice when I indulged myself to your words. Such a delightful mix of degenerate and innocence. I couldn't stay away....and the way you called me 'Father'..... _fuuuuuuuuck_.”

You try to get up but his hands grab your shoulders, pushing you back down. You get a face full of cassock and you can feel how hard he is through the fabric.

“Going somewhere?” he raises his eyebrow. “I thought you liked danger? Welcome to the most dangerous man you'll ever come across and you fucked yourself to thoughts of him.”

“Please, just-”

“-if you're going to say let me go, that's _boring_ ,” his eyes bore into yours. “You're not boring, you need guidance. Do you want your punishment?”

He pulls the cassock off revealing the tailored suit underneath that just radiates power with the addition of the dog collar. Moriarty stands there, hands in his pockets and waiting.

You didn't think he would kill you, he'd had more than enough opportunities to. He seemed to find you interesting and you in turn, were still experiencing that dull ache between your legs.

“Yes,” you whisper but he catches it and smiles widely.

“Good girl,” he drawls. “Open your mouth then.”

It's barely seconds between you doing that and his cock slipping between your lips. You should be mortified, scared even but looking up at him with the high vaulted ceiling and grandiose stained glass behind him, you'd never felt such a rush.

“That's it,” he cards his hands through your hair, not pulling you but letting you know he could take control in an instant.

You took him as deep as you could, swirled your tongue around his tip, lathed up the shaft with such passionate attention that you could see his expression become more and more amused. At a point where you took him into your throat, there was a feral growl that rippled throughout him.

“All that practice has certainly paid off, hasn't it sweetheart?” he smirks, bucking his hips so he slides in a little bit more. “Oh I could get use to this kind of worship.”

You could feel him getting thicker, the twitch as you did something he liked and knew you were getting addicted to pulling those low moans out from him.

“Get on your back,” his tone is sharp but fringed with want.

You don't even question it any more. Your desire is outweighing common sense that anyone could walk in here right now and see this.

“Now show me what you've been teasing me with you bad, _bad_ girl,” he stands over you, watching you pull your dress up and your underwear off, presenting yourself to him. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you nod eagerly.

“Yes.... _what_?” he draws it out, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I've gotten very used to hearing you speak to me a certain way, my dear.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Oh yessssss,” he laughs, the sound echoing around the empty church. “Now let me show you something better than God and you'll be praying to me after, I _guarantee_ it.”

He dived on you suddenly, not even taking his suit off as he buried himself in you. You arched your back as he licked up your neck, biting savagely and making you clench around him.

“Normally I don't allow myself such distractions but _you_ , you're a special case to me,” he ruts hard, making you cry out. “Recklessness should be encouraged, danger is exciting, pleasure....welllllll.....”

He moves his hand in between you, using the barest touch on your clit but in such a way that the sparse contact is driving your orgasm to the surface. He never breaks stride, studying your face for the perfect reaction as his unforgiving thrusts punish your body.

“Are we feeling it yet?” it's like he's playing a game with you. “Is it starting to build? Of course it is, I can see it in your eyes. If you want to cum for me, know that I'll be taking you with me after this. I want...no, I _need_ some entertainment when I'm home. I want you to have stories of _me_ doing all manner of perverse things to you. You need someone to take care of you, control you. Well that's me, sweetheart. Give me an answer, _now_.”

Your nerves felt they were on fire, you'd never experienced sex like this before, so intimate and in-tune with what you desired.

“Yes, yes please make me cum, Moriarty,” you moan, knowing you'll regret what you said later.

“Then scream my name and _fuck God_ ,” he growls, picking up the pace.

“Moriarty!” your shrill cries bounced around, echoing loudly as you spasmed under him, scrabbling at the heavy carpet.

“My good little girl,” he purrs, grabbing your face and turning it to him. “ _Mine_.”

With a long and luxurious groan, you feel his cock twitch in you as he cums, flooding you as he jams his lips to yours in the most fervent kiss of your life.

He pulls out, redressing himself before helping you to your feet and he smirks slyly when he sees his own cum running down the inside of your thigh. You pull your underwear back on, feeling shaky.

With a deft flourish, he grabs the cassock from the floor, “I think I'll be taking this. I quite like the roleplay. Shall we go, my dear? The night is young after all and I have a _lot_ more imagination to work out upon you.”

He holds out the crook of his elbow like a gentleman, smiling wickedly at you as you take it before leading you out of the cathedral and into society, away from everything that you knew.


End file.
